CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 42- CONCLUSIONS

The silence of the room stretched on, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock mounted high on the wall. Minutes passed, long and unhurried, until Logan finally leaned back in his chair. He had been poring over every line of ink, every curve of formula, and every carefully labeled sketch scattered across the five sheets Kaidren had filled. His sharp eyes traced the unfamiliar symbols and the intricate steps of the potion-making process, as if committing them to memory.

At last, he exhaled—a long, deliberate breath that carried both satisfaction and resolution. Setting the final page gently back upon the desk, Logan looked up at Kaidren.

"You’ve given me much to think about," Logan said, his voice steady, tinged with a gravity that made it clear he wasn’t merely being polite. His gaze sharpened before he continued. "Since I’ve seen the formula, there’s something I must do."

Kaidren, who had been sitting sprawled with a casual ease, straightened slightly. His plain expression didn’t falter, though his eyes narrowed by the slightest fraction. He watched as Logan reached into the pocket of his trousers with deliberate slowness, as though what he was about to reveal carried weight beyond mere currency.

From within, Logan withdrew a card—jet black in its foundation, with subtle veins of deep blue running beneath its glossy surface. The name Aegis Bank was embossed upon it in refined golden lettering, catching the light of the desk lamp. The card looked understated at first glance, yet carried the kind of quiet authority that made its true value unmistakable.

Logan slid it across the desk, stopping just before Kaidren’s side.

"This," Logan said firmly, "contains a total of one hundred million AUR."

His tone carried neither boast nor hesitation. He spoke as if simply stating fact, but there was a subtle undertone of respect—an acknowledgment of the deal they had just struck.

"When you wish to make a purchase, simply use this card. The bank will process everything on your behalf. You won’t need to trouble yourself with carrying bundles of money everywhere you go." Logan’s lips curved faintly, the smallest of smiles. "And should you prefer cash, insert the card into one of our ATMs. A special system will activate, allowing you to withdraw with ease."

For a moment, Kaidren only looked at the card. His hand hovered just above it, fingers tapping lightly against the desk. The black surface reflected the pale glow of the lamp, and the blue veins seemed almost alive, pulsing faintly like veins beneath skin.

Finally, he reached out and took it. The card was cold to the touch, smooth, and far heavier than it appeared.

So this is what one hundred million looks like in this world.

The thought echoed quietly in his mind. His expression remained unreadable, but deep within, he could not deny the flicker of satisfaction that stirred. With this, he finally had the means to place his wager on the upcoming Kessen match. His thumb brushed across the golden letters, tracing the crest of wealth and influence.

I finally have the money to step into the game.

Yet even as the thought lingered, a seed of hesitation grew. He studied the card a moment longer, weighing not its physical form but the decisions tied to it. The amount itself was staggering, more than most men would see in a lifetime.

Do I really need to gamble this away?

The fleeting doubt pressed against his thoughts, sharp and insistent. For an instant, he envisioned himself simply holding onto it, using it to secure comfort, power, and safety without risk. But the notion evaporated almost as quickly as it arrived.

No. In the future, I’ll need far more than a hundred million. If I am to survive—no, if I am to stand above all—I’ll require sums larger than imagination. Money here offers its own kind of power, and this is just the beginning.

His decision settled, Kaidren slipped the card into the inner pocket of his coat. His face remained the same—plain, steady, unshaken—but his thoughts burned with clarity.

Logan, still seated across from him, wasn’t finished. Once more, he reached into his pocket, this time withdrawing something smaller: a ring.

The metal gleamed softly beneath the light, its simple band wrought in fine gold. At its center rested the head of a lion, its maw open as if mid-roar, every detail etched with precision. Despite its simplicity, it radiated a presence that was difficult to ignore.

Logan held it out, his fingers steady.

"This ring," he said, "carries value beyond coin."

Kaidren accepted it without hesitation, his eyes flicking briefly over its details before sliding it onto his right ring finger. The fit was perfect, snug yet comfortable. He lifted his hand slightly, watching the golden lion catch the light.

"And what makes this one so special?" Kaidren asked at last, his voice calm, his tone plain.

Logan leaned forward, answering with quiet reverence. "Unlike the VIP coin you received from Banker Rex, this ring represents something greater. With it, you hold VVIP access across every company tied to Aegis Bank’s network. That includes roughly two hundred and forty-five companies worldwide. The ring contains a microscopic code, detectable only by specialized scanners. It verifies its authenticity instantly."

A faint crease formed at the corner of Kaidren’s brow—barely a twitch, but enough to betray a flicker of surprise.

So something like this exists...?

He hadn’t expected such a token, nor had he known of its existence within the world. But then again, this was no longer a game. This was reality—one far larger, more complex, and more intricate than he had ever imagined.

His face, however, betrayed nothing of these thoughts. The plain expression remained as it always did, masking every ripple beneath the surface.

"I see," Kaidren murmured simply.

He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate, steady. Sliding his hands into his coat pockets, he turned toward the door. "Since our business is finished, I’ll be leaving. There are... other things I need to attend to."

The thought pressed quietly in his mind, sharper than any words he spoke aloud.

Betting on the Kessen match comes next.

Logan, upon hearing this, stood as well. His respect was evident in his movements, mirroring Kaidren’s pace. His crimson eyes lingered on the younger man’s plain and indifferent expression, searching, perhaps, for some trace of the genius he knew sat behind it.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," Logan said, his voice carrying genuine weight.

He extended his hand across the desk once more, a gesture of finality and respect.

Kaidren paused mid-stretch, his body tilting back ever so slightly. For a moment, it seemed he might ignore the hand. But then, with a faint sigh, he stopped himself from stretching his body and instead extended his own. His grip was firm, steady, unhurried.

"The pleasure was mine," Kaidren replied, his voice plain, his tone unreadable.

Their hands clasped in silence, the deal between them sealed not by paper or ink, but by mutual understanding.

And with that, Kaidren turned toward the door, his thoughts already shifting toward the Kessen match and the stakes that awaited him.

_______________________

The door closed behind Kaidren with a soft thud, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet office. Logan remained still, his sharp red eyes following Kaidren’s retreating figure until it disappeared fully from sight. Only then did he release a slow, measured sigh, as though he had been holding his breath the entire time.

His gaze shifted back to the desk where five sheets of paper lay neatly arranged—formulae and careful drawings of the new equipment Kaidren had created. Each page seemed to pulse with significance, delicate strokes of ink that held the potential to alter more than just markets or laboratories.

Logan leaned closer, fingertips brushing lightly against the edge of one paper as though afraid the lines might fade if he pressed too hard. The diagrams were pristine, yet hauntingly simple, the kind of innovation that disguised complexity within elegance.

His eyes flicked toward the jars resting at the far corner of the desk. One shimmered faintly green, the other yellow, both glowing softly under the light. Beside them, in a large glass container, the violet rat twitched. The creature’s fur was patchy, strands matted with green liquid still clinging to its body from earlier testing. It scratched at its side restlessly, movements jerky and unnatural, as if aware it had been reduced to a specimen.

Logan studied the rat with a momentary pause, his stern expression flickering with something unreadable. "I’ll have the Guardians dispose of you later," he muttered under his breath, the words more for himself than the creature. His tone held neither pity nor cruelty—only the cold practicality of a man who understood the necessity of ugly truths.

He pulled open a drawer in the desk and retrieved a sleek, black professional bag. The zipper whispered open, and with meticulous care, he slid the papers inside, stacking them evenly so no corner bent. The two jars followed, cradled within cushioned compartments as though they were priceless treasures. Once everything was secured, Logan zipped the bag closed with a finality that echoed in the silence.

Carrying it firmly in his right hand, he turned toward the towering bookshelf at the side of the room. The air shifted subtly, heavy with the unspoken knowledge of what lay behind it. Logan scanned the rows of books with a calculating eye, fingers brushing across spines of various colors until he began methodically shifting them.

A red book placed beside a green.

A violet one shifted beneath a gray.

Each movement deliberate, every placement purposeful.

Finally, his hand rested on a blue volume. He slid it into position among others of the same shade.

Click.

The sound was faint, yet decisive. The shelf shuddered, vibrating faintly before sliding sideways with smooth mechanical grace. Behind it, darkness yawned—a corridor stretching into shadow. But as Logan stepped forward, embedded technology awakened. Soft pulses of azure light spread through stylized lines along the white walls, their glow like veins carrying power.

The corridor brightened, sterile yet serene, the faint hum of hidden machinery resonating beneath the silence. White carpeting muffled his steps, each movement measured, deliberate, as though crossing a threshold between two worlds.

Behind him, the bookshelf-door closed silently, sealing him within.

Logan walked unhurriedly, his crimson beard and hair catching the blue glow with an almost spectral sharpness. At the end of the corridor loomed a heavy iron door, its surface marked with layers of sophisticated identification systems—fingerprint scanner, facial recognition camera, blood test port.

Setting down the black bag carefully at his feet, Logan began the process. His hand pressed against the scanner; it flashed and beeped in confirmation. He leaned forward, face framed by the scanner’s glow, the lens glinting as it mapped every contour. Finally, he bit down lightly on his tongue, drew a droplet of blood, and pressed it against the blood tester.

Each step completed with mechanical precision.

A deep rumble followed as locks disengaged, gears shifting. The massive iron door parted with a grinding shhhk, sliding aside to reveal a chamber beyond.

A dim blue glow washed outward like a tide, illuminating Logan’s face in sharp relief—red eyes gleaming, brows furrowed beneath the hue. He retrieved the bag, tightened his grip, and stepped inside.

The chamber was vast, its walls alive with pulsing streams of blue energy that coursed in flowing patterns, bathing the room in an ethereal atmosphere. The air itself seemed charged, humming faintly as if resonating with hidden power.

Logan moved to the very center. At once, the room responded.

The walls pulsed brighter, sending waves of deep blue cascading across the chamber. From above, five massive inverted rectangular holographic screens flared into existence, descending with deliberate grandeur until they hovered in a half-circle around him.

Figures appeared on each screen—shadowed silhouettes, identities veiled in darkness. Their outlines suggested human form, but their presence radiated authority, an almost suffocating weight that bore down upon Logan.

The middle screen brightened slightly, the silhouette at its center shifting forward. When it spoke, the voice was deep, resonant, and sharp with command.

"Logan," it said, each syllable carrying gravity. "You had better have a good explanation for why you authorized the withdrawal of one hundred million AUR from the branch under your management."

The chamber fell silent afterward, the echo of the words reverberating like the toll of a distant bell.

Logan stood tall, his crimson features stark against the blue light. He clasped the black bag firmly at his side, his breath steady despite the weight of the inquiry. His red eyes did not waver from the center screen, though the tension in the air pressed against him like an invisible storm.